The Questionings of Darren Criss
by AlexandriaApple
Summary: Darren realizes that Chris feels something for him, and he might feel the same way... CrissColfer
1. Chapter 1

We sat outside of Chris's giant trailer, the golden dusk light bouncing off of every surface, sending dazzling strips of sun all around, the world turning into a yellow haze. My dark and light blue striped tank and red swim trunks were sticking lazily around me thanks to the sudden heat and humidity. The coke I was drinking had beads of condensation rolling down its glass sides, dripping to the asphalt with an almost audible _hiss_.

I looked over at Chris through my signature pink glasses. His bright white t-shirt clung to his body, highlighting every muscle, every curve. The bright blue Hawaiian trunks he was wearing were (thankfully) looser. The light was playing tricks with his perfectly styled hair, changing it to a brilliant blonde, and then to a dazzling bronze. I self-consciously pat the top of my head, squishing down my crazily curled hair, gell-less at Chris's request. I found my eyes slowly going over his body, his long legs ending in a set of toes, wiggling in his yellow Wal-Mart flip flops along to the music I had forgotten was playing from the small radio sitting on the table between our lawn chairs. His delicate eyelids are closed, a small smile playing at his perfectly kissable lips. The open issue of vogue in his lap flutters with the occasional passing breeze. His skin has become sort of mesmerizing shade of dazzling yellow, the light hitting the shadows and light spots of his skin perfectly.

_And you're _not _gay, Darren?_

Chris let out a content sigh, bringing me out of (and pulling me deeper into) the perverted fantasies I was having.

"_Why_ is it so hot?"

"Huh? Oh, I don't know." I looked down quickly into the cellphone on my lap, a blush starting up my neck.

He smirked, turning to face me, "What are you blushing at?"

"Nothing," I said, maybe a little too quickly. "I'm just hot."

Chris giggled, sending butterflies into my throat. "Gloat much, do we Darren?"

"Shut up, I didn't mean it like that." Or did i?

"Whatever, are we still on for tonight?" he flipped nonchalantly through the magazine, passing pages of stick thin models in lingerie, rolling his eyes. Only Chris could roll his eyes at half naked super models.

_Are you sure about that Darren? _

I shook my head trying to clear it, "Yeah, theres no way I would miss out on a Harry Potter marathon, especially if my best buddy was coming."

"Right, buddy." He gave me a sarcastic thumbs-up and rolled his eyes. _Why_ was that so hot?

_Do I really have to explain this to you Darren?_

_Shut up! _I mentally glared at whatever voice kept doing that.

"Darren?" Chris raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Hmm? Sorry, lost in thought I guess." I didn't add the "about you" part.

"Okay, cause you looked like you were about to go psycho on your coke bottle." He laughed, the sound swirling through the air, causing a smile to instantly appear on my face. I could get used to that sound.

_You could probably get used to him making _other_ sounds to…._

I choked on the drink of coke I had in my mouth, coughing, sending a spray of the sugary, brown liquid right onto Chris.

"DARREN!" the gorgeous boy began wiping has hands frantically on the chair.

"God, sorry!" I leapt up, sending my lawn chair skidding back two inches. I took of my shirt instinctively, and began dapping up Chris's sticky body, brushing my fingers against his neck for just a little longer than I should have. I stopped when I saw the shocked expression etched across his flawless face.

"Chris?"

His bright azure eyes slid across my now bare chest, sending a swarm of little butterflies flittering into my stomach. The look on his face slowly changed from shocked (which looked positively adorable on him) to something…dark…seductive…and _incredibly_ sexy.

"Chris?" my voice was strained, coming out in a sort of croak.

He looked up at me, his face instantly turning a bright shade of red, "Oh yeah, I, uh, I have to go, uh, yeah." He stood up flustered, dropping his magazine onto the ground. His blush deepened as he bent over to pick it up, sticking his (very attractive) butt in just the wrong place on my body.

_Well, wouldn't it be just the _right_ place?_

I gasped, and stepped back, my coke bottle dropping to the ground with a shatter amplified by the silence. Brown sticky liquid sprayed around my ankles. Chris stiffened and jumped up, dropping the magazine again, its pages fluttering to the pavement. He whipped around to face me, his face a brilliant shade of red, a dot of Coke still resting on his forehead. He mumbled something incoherent, and hurried off, his face in his hands.

I stood there, the parts of my body still tingling from where he had backed into me. I kept replaying the images back in my mind again and again. Each time feeling a new level of nervous-ness, mixed with complete exhilaration. The realization hit me, causing me to gasp loudly.

_Chris _liked_ me, and I was pretty sure _**I**_ liked him too._


	2. Chris

I ran as fast as I could, covering my bright red (and still sticky) face with my hands, praying that no one would see me. But I knew that those beautiful chestnut eyes were staring at my back. The (annoying) giant flip-flops Darren had bought me earlier were flapping noisily against the searing pavement with every hurried step.

After making sure I was nowhere near my starting place, I practically dove into a side alley, a tiny, dusty, spider infested little alley, squished between two of the giant production buildings. I leaned against one of the grimy brick walls, letting the pale light that slipped into the small space hit my skin, creating dusty stripes across my white shirt. I sighed, and allowed myself to think of the absolutely horrendous past five minutes. Images of Darren, his dark chocolate-curly hair, his earth-shatteringly bright smile, his utterly nerdy, yet oh so adorable self, passed by my already spinning mind, creating new whirlpools of complete confusion.

_Darren._

God, why did that idiot have to take of his stupid shirt? It's not _my_ fault that he has the hottest chest in freakin history. I sighed angrily. It wasn't that gorgeous boys fault, everything had been somewhat repairable by some excuse about how tired I was, until I had practically shoved my butt into his crotch.

_Don't act like you didn't absolutely love it._

I glared angrily at that stupid voice in the back of my stupid head. _That thing_ was what had gotten me into this, whatever "this" was. _It_ was the one who had practically swooned at the site of bare chested Darren, sending my blushing like a school girl.

_ Oooh, Kinky._

SHUT UP!

Why had I swooned? I'd seen him hundreds of times without a shirt. But this time, it had been different for some reason. I lazily flicked a spider off of my leg. Maybe it was the way the dusk light had hit his skin, defining every muscle, every perfectly kissable muscle. Or maybe it was how his swim trunks had dipped just a little lower than usual, a mere tease to what lied underneath.

_ Bet you'd like to see that, huh?_

I rolled my eyes, pushing that stupid innuendo filled voice to the back of my head. And all of this had happened because he had spurted coke all over me. I scrunched up my nose, poking the light brown spots that dotted along my skin. It was no help, only making my finger get sticky. What had that been about? A piece of me hoped that it had something to do with me, _anything_ to do with me.

I was so engrossed in whatever that was, I nearly jumped out of the cheapie swim trunks I had on when my cell phone began to vibrate violently. I fumbled with the iPhone, close to dropping it to the filthy cement below me. My heart sank into some place deep in my stomach at the flawless face on the calling screen. My thumb instinctively went to the little green phone, but I halted to a stop, regaining my senses. It broke my heart to see it go to voicemail like that, I _never_ let _any_ of Darren's calls go to voicemail, not even after he convinced me to try bungee jumping with him, and that did not end well at ALL. Let's just say, besides screaming like a three year old (_he_ did too, thank you very much) I lost a camera as well as my lunch.

_Well, at least you got to see how wide Darren's mouth is._

I went to slap, my head, then thought better of it, not wanting a headache on top of the one that was already forming. I waited (very impatiently) until the call ended, Darren having finished his message.

My hands began to tremble quite suddenly at the thoughts of what could possibly be on that voicemail. Was he going to freak out at me for what I did? Or was he simply going to act like it never happened? The last possibility seemed even worse than the first. He had obviously watched as I gawked over him.

I gulped back any reserves of dignity I had, and clicked "listen to message".

"**Hey, uh, Chris, I uh… you just sort of **

**ran out, and I, uh, are you okay?**

**Are we still going to hang out tonight?**

**I um, sorry about the coke, and the uh, other part, I,**

**I, uh, um, just call me back.**

**Oh, this is Darren" **I found myself laughing. I quickly bit my lip just in time to hear the rest of the message.

"**So, uh, ya, just call me back…..**

**Please."**

That last word was it. My knees melted into jelly, I brushed a cobweb from my hair. There had been such longing in it, such…I don't know, _want_. It was the sound of the most beautiful person in history _begging_.

I closed my eyes. Was this really happening, did Darren _want_ to see me? Did he want _me_?

_One way to find out._

For the first time since this whole fiasco had begun, I didn't feel an urge to stab that stupid little voice. It was right. There was only one thing to do.

I picked up my phone, and dialed the memorized number, my shaking fingers somehow managing to punch in that Redvine-loving idiot's cell.


	3. Darren

I let out a shaky breathe, slowly dropping the phone from my ear. He had returned the call at least, and we were still on for tonight, but something wasn't right. Chris had sounded so…collected, so unbelievably calm. It made me wonder if maybe I had just imagine the flustered, blushing version of Chris that had hurried away from me only 30 minutes earlier. Hadn't something happened? I wasn't sure _what_ had, but _something_ had.

I closed my eyes and sat down on the yellow lawn chair, which had been sitting there vacant for the last half hour, I had been way too jumpy to even consider using it. Its heated surface burned slowly into the exposed skin of my legs, but my mind was busy, thinking how in hell I was supposed to watch _eight_ Harry Potter movies sitting next to that gorgeous boy and_ not_ start to suck his face off.

_That's probably not the only part of him you want to suck off._

I glowered at a piece of glass still sitting on the ground, a fractured memory of my once proud coke bottle. That _thing_ needed to shut up. Groaning, I lied back on the stretched, sunshine colored plastic beneath me. I had to think about this. I wasn't gay, well, I didn't _think_ I was at least. But _Chris_, the way he smiled at nothing, the way he seemed to make _any_ article of clothing look like it was made just for him, the way he laughed at my lame jokes, even when_ I_ didn't laugh at them, it made me feel something I wasn't sure about. And all of that wasn't even including the way he made _other_ parts of me feel besides my heart.

I let out a defeated sigh. Even if I wasn't _gay_, I felt something for Chris. Something way past our perfectly amazing friendship. Something that made my heart want to fly out of my chest and burst into a chorus of some cheesy 80's love song. I needed to tell him. I had to explain this to him. But what if he completely rejected me? What if we stopped hanging out, or stopped being friends all together? I didn't think that I could live without his witty one liner's about everything from World War II to sequins.

_ Chris would look good in a sequined World War II soldiers outfit…_

_Get a life_. God, why was this so confusing? Why couldn't it just be like the old black and white movies? Where the two lovers would just magically fall in love at the exact same time? Granted, those movies usually involved a man and a woman, instead of two men, but it's the principle that matters. Why couldn't Chris and I just run off into the sunset of some story book fairytale, laughing and singing in our tones that went so very perfectly together? Why couldn't I rescue Chris from a tower in some positively cheesy and romantic act of heroism? Why couldn't it just be _easy_?

_Because Chris isn't easy._

I opened my eyes at the thought of this. No, it wasn't going to be easy. But, if even half of what I wanted to happen _could_ happen, it would be worth every struggle and every trial and tribulation. If there was even a chance Chris felt the way about me I felt about him, then I would give up anything, anyone, to be with him.

It's decided then, I'm going, and I'm going to explain things to him. I'm going to explain how he makes my head fuzzy whenever our shoulders so much as brush. How he could light up every dark corner of the world with his eyes when they twinkled, usually when he thought about his family. How I wanted to stuff my tongue down his throat every time I saw him, well, maybe _that one_ could wait, unless things went well.

I sat up suddenly, I thought I hadn't figured yet entering my head, what the _hell_ am I supposed to wear?

_Well, you could just wear nothing, that might speed things up._

Ignoring whatever said that, I found myself dashing suddenly to my trailer, the sweat appearing on my brow not deterring my focus. I flapped into the door of my current home, and into the small, cramped bedroom space, practically falling into the tiny closet that housed all of my personal (very different from Blaine, _thank you_) clothes. I began to throw things aside, groaning at my lack of nice clothing.

After a good twenty minutes of scrutinization, I settled on black (kind of skinny, but not anything _near_ to what Chris wore) jeans, and a dark blue button down shirt. I laid them out neatly on my bed, and, inhaling the mustard gas that was my smell, quickly proceeded to jump in the shower.

Sitting there, surrounded by the steaming water, I sat down on the pale blue tile and allowed myself to think of what could possibly happen tonight. Images of Chris, his eyes closed, his lips busily working with mine, his fingers running through my hair, tracing along my back, slipping below my waist band…

_Finally, were on the same page._

I groaned, looking down and sighing at what just _thinking_ about Chris did to me. With a quick gulp of breath, I turned the shower knob all the way to the end of the blue stripe. I gasped as the liquid ribbons of ice slammed into my body, slithering into every nook and cranny. I bit my lip hard, waiting for the freezing water to hurry up and finish its job. It took less than 30 seconds. I was quickly out of the shower, my teeth still chattering, slipping into the fuzziest towel I owned and walking numbly to the heater at the back of the trailer.

Within 10 minutes I was dressed, and standing in front of the slightly foggy mirror, trying to fathom what to do with my hair. It was already curlier than should be legal, but Chris liked it like that. I glared at the dark brown puffs sprouting from the top of my head. Sighing, I only lightly gelled it, it now looked less like an afro and more like a, well, just a smaller afro.

I walked out into the small but cozy living room, smiling. It was 7:48, Chris would be here in less than 15 minutes. I sat down on the couch, trying to collect my thoughts, trying to arrange the speech that i had prepared in the shower into something that sounded even remoltly close to affectionate. I didn't get much time though, because, only two minutes later, a small, brisk knocking came from the door.

Dam, Chris is always so early! I cleared my throat, a sudden wave of nerves almost causing me to sit back down, curl up into a ball, and rock back and forth until this was all over. But I didn't, I walked (somewhat) confidently to the door, and swung it open, my signature smile on my face.

But all the nerves were gone in an instant. All the thoughts, all the preparations. Because _nothing_ could have prepared me for the sight of Chris standing, there a nervous smile on his face, decked out in a tight blue shirt and dark blue skinny jeans, his hair seeming even more perfect than usual.

He blinked, swallowed, and smiled, "Hey Darren."


	4. Movie Night

It's here! Finally!

Thanks for all the reviews, they make me all smiley :3

I would like to apologize to the people who sent me rather angry messages about the lateness of this chapter, but I was quite busy.

Well, not really, but none of that matters because it's here!

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, though I am still trying…

Darren just stood there, the golden light of his trailer illuminating his back. He was just staring at me with those dazzlingly brown eyes, sending shivers up and down my entire body. The look on his face was (annoyingly) unreadable, but I soon found my eyes looking over more than just his face. He looked positively stunning. His hair was puffy, swirling into complicated chocolate colored curls with every shake of his perfect head. The blue dress shirt he wore was untucked, flitting slightly in the weak wind that swept around the studio grounds. His black jeans hugged around his muscular legs comfortably, I forced my eyes back above his waist.

"Chris, yeah, hey, come, come in" he gave me a barely nervous smile despite the stutter.

I could already feel my heart beginning to race, pounding through the thin material of my V-neck. I gulped back the nerves and stepped up into the small, warm space of his trailer. It looked just like mine, but with quite a lot more posters and knick knacks. The walls were a stylish light brown, pairing perfectly with the dark brown carpet. A small kitchen space equipped with stunningly stainless steel appliances led away to a door that I assumed led to his bedroom...where he slept…in only boxers… Okay, I did _not_ need to be thinking about his bedroom.

Darren gestured grandly to the retro red velvet love seat in the corner, opposite a flat screen sitting upon stacked boxes. I smiled inside. He was so unaware of current interior design. An already open bag of Redvines rested on the arm of the couch.

"So, you ready?"

I turned around at the sudden words to see Darren standing near the still open door, his eyes twinkling in a way that did things to my already fluttering tummy that it shouldn't have the right to do. I gulped and gave what I hoped to be a winning grin. "Oh, yeah, let's get our Harry Potter on."

_That's probably not the only thing you want to "get on"._

Darren smiled and over at me, the light adding shamefully gorgeous shadows along his cheek bones face. "Alrighty then."

I couldn't help the smile that escaped my nervous lips. Him just being happy seemed to make everything horrible and disgusting in the entire world just start singing lovey dovey showtunes. He walked over, and took my hand. I froze, his fingers sending a ribbon of fire up my arm.

"Oh, sorry", he began to pull his hand away, a rare glimpse of nerves showing through his normally charming smile.

I instantly missed the warm contact, and practically yanked his hand back, quite surprised at my own bravado. He looked down at our intertwined fingers, his expression so curiously blank. Why wasn't he ask freaked out inside as I was? My heart was practically just dying from beating so hard and I couldn't help but notice a slight shake in my limbs. I closed my eyes in an attempt to restore my mind to rationality. The strong squeeze that wrapped around my fingers brought me back to Darren, who was still looking too hot for his own good. I gave him what I hoped was an easy, confident smile, but what I figured was just a grimace that was certainly not attractive. He gently led me over to the couch, sitting down delicately on the squishy cushions. I breathed out slowly and joined him. He looked down once again at our interlocked fingers with those ever changing eyes. I would have literally given my left foot just to know what he was thinking up in that brilliant mind of his. I held my breath, waiting for him to say something, _anything_. We could normally talk about anything, so why was it suddenly so awkward?

_Because I'm here._

"Chris, I," His normally Broadway ready voice choked out. My heart thudded three hundred gazillion times a second. "I…do you?" He sighed, a tone of defeat tainting the normally gorgeous sound. I looked down and let out a similar noise. He was not going to make this easy. "Do you want to start with the first movie?"

I took a moment, staring fixedly into my lap, trying to hide the complete and utter disappointment of the situation, "yeah."

He leaned over and flicked off the light switch, that stupidly unreadable, quite look not leaving his face.

The next two movies went by slowly, painfully. The silence between us choked the air, but neither of us said anything. The pale light of the movie screen coated Darren's face, adding a ghostly glow to his already ghostly-expressionless face. I was continually glancing over at him, my mind reeling with questions, my hormones aching with need. I couldn't ignore the way the light glowed of his slightly visible clavicle, turning it into a bright porcelain color.

_I personally think a hicky would look great on it, but that's just me. Or is it?_

I blocked the words out of my head, and tried to watch a young Harry kill a very angry snake. But sitting next to "Sex on a Stick" in the dark can be distracting. _Really_ distracting. Our hands were still clasped, his soft thumb mindlessly stroking against my skin. He was actually mouthing the words as the characters on the TV said them, matching them word for word every time. I didn't even try to hold back the warm smile that spread across my nervous features.

By the third movie, my head had found its way to Darren's amazingly soft shoulder, not at all the result of a two hour long process of slowly moving my neck a millimeter every five minutes. I couldn't stop myself from nuzzling into his neck, the smell of aftershave mixed with a scent that can only be described as "Darren"

_Bet you'd like to "nuzzle" some other body parts too._

I rolled my eyes at the innuendo and snuggled in deeper against Darren's side, he chuckled.

I blushed instantly, sitting up "What?"

"Nothing," he smirked, taking the hand that wasn't clasped in mine and reaching into his jeans, extracting a stick of chapstick.

**Holy. Freakin. Hell.**

I felt my eyes widen and had to cross my legs quickly at the sight of him slowly gliding the clear and minty gel across his lips, stopping to rub them together in the most tantalizing motion I had ever seen in my entire existence. My mind was soon flying with perverted thoughts, the voice in my head was practically having a field day:

_Other whitish colored liquids would probably look good on his lips too._

_ And you're _not_ sucking his face off?_

_ His lips were practically made for (much bigger) chapstick shaped objects!_

I couldn't stop staring. This was unfair. How could someone ever get even close to this…this…God? I was so caught up in his lips that I didn't notice when his eyes looked over at me, curious at first, but quickly changing into a more concerned look at me quite literally drooling countenance.

"Chris?"

I started in my seat, my eyes blinking rapidly as I tried to focus on his. I could feel a wave of red seeping up from my collar bone to my forehead, and I prayed to whomever was listening that it would go unnoticed in the thin gray light that seeped from the T.V screen. "Yeah? Sorry, I uh, I, chapstick."

Way to go Chris, a bunch of incoherent ramblings and then the word "chapstick". Very articulate.

"You want some?" he held out the thin tube with a thumb and a forefinger, oblivious to my mistake.

I swallowed, forcing out as complete a sentence as seemed possible right now "Yes, that's, that's what I want."

_We both know that you want way more than chapstick._

He smiled and I extended my hand, waiting for him to deliver the paste into my hand. I glanced up after a moment when he didn't, noticing as his handsome grin was slowly becoming devilish, his eyes twinkling darkly, a reflection of the pale blue screen in his irises. This could not be good.

"Dar, can I have the chapstick, please?" my voice strained as my eyes tried not to focus on how dark his were.

He continued his grin, his thumb moving slowly up the tube, popping the lid off and letting it fall to the floor with a silent tumble. My stomach squirmed.

"Dar? Are you- Oomph!" his hand was suddenly flying to my face, the chapstick making a beeline for my lips. I yelped and dove sideways, tumbling off of the couch and landing with a hard thud on the carpet, but not before a gooey smear of the stuff was plastered onto the skin of my right cheek bone, curving down to the edge of my jaw. I sat up, ramrod straight, slowly lifting a hand to my face, my glaring eyes never leaving Darren's now slightly afraid ones. The grin dropped from his face, and his arms were slowly making their way up to guard his head.

My voice was cold, theatrically so, "You. Did. Not."

His eyes widened, but a small smile was still playing at his lips. I let a deep breathe escape my lips, adding a flare to my nostrils. Darren Froze. I smirked, and with a quick and rather hefty tug, I had yanked his firm figure off of the couch. He squeaked in surprise and flopped off of the loveseat. I couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled out of my throat at the shocked and surprised look that was etched across his face.

He blinked and quickly popped out of it though. Returning to his devilish smile, he careened towards me, knocking me down flat on my back. His fingers were quickly at my sides, working swiftly in little circle patterns to send me giggling like an idiot. His speed increased, and I couldn't stop the rolls of laughter coming out of my throat. My eyes closed and I continued to emit high pitched squeals. Amazingly, the voice stayed quiet.

"Dar…stop..i..i..can't breathe." I gasped between tickles.

Mercilessly, he stopped, chuckling. It was only now that I noticed that he was practically straddling my hips, his palms flat down on the carpet next to my head. His toned chest was directly above mine, practically calling out for my hands to grab it and pull him down. I couldn't move. He was pushed against me in just the wrong, no, the _right_ spot.

_Took you long enough to realize that, buddy._

His eyes brows creased at the look on my face, and then he looked down at where he was practically _sitting_, and blushed. He actually _blushed_. Darren, king of all things charming, blushed.

I let out a shaky breathe and he looked back up at me, mumbling something that I was to dazed out to even come close to hearing.

"What?" I breathed, practically having to mentally chain my hips where they to the floor at the sight of him breathing heavy over me, the movie (completely forgotten now, by the way) lighting a side of him. This was like every dream I'd had in like the past _year_.

"I said sorry for the chapstick." His voice was still uncharacteristically quiet, but audible. He finally looked my straight in the eyes, which really shouldn't have been that hard, considering that our heads were very close. Ve-h-ery close.

His breathe tickled the skin of my throat, sending chills through nerves that were already pulsating with adrenaline. Something in his eyes seemed to change then, something clicked. My breath was shaky, coming out in quick not-at-all-sexy gasps. Darren's eyes were still staring into mine, dark with what I hoped was lust, and not some horrible feeling of disgust. They glanced down for only a split second to my lips, before returning to my eyes, which by now were wide as friggen tires.

His voice seemed to float through the air, quiet and shy, "Chris?"

I closed my eyes at the way he said my name, it coming out dark and sultry despite the tone in which he said it. My pants were quite suddenly becoming much tighter than they originally were. "Yes?"

His thumb slowly made its way up to my face, and was suddenly warmly wiping the chapstick off of my cheek. I am not proud of the noise I made. He let out a breath, and I opened my eyes to see him biting his lip. This did not help at all with the worsening situation in my lower regions. I clamped onto whatever self-reserve was still there in that fuddled mind of mine and stayed silent as he leaned down slowly, his lips brushing my ear as his whispered words found their way to a still functioning part of my brain:

"Can I kiss you?"

BUM BUM BUM!

Cliffhanger : J

Please review! I take ideas from that for the next chapter, so if you have ideas, please speak them!

Thanks :D


	5. I Love You

Please don't shoot me. Please?

I'm so sorry it took so long, I'm actually quite flabbergasted at how long it took.

I want to thank you guys for not hating me, well, at least I don't think you hate me….

So here it is! Drum roll, Finn!

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

The words had left my mouth before I could even think to stop them. My mind wasn't focused on what was coming out of my mouth. It (along with the rest of me) was preoccupied with the way the light green light glittered on Chris's lashes, the way every quick breath that left his lips kept coming up and tickling mine, the way his eyes swirled with so many different emotions I couldn't count them, the way I was practically straddling him.

I wasn't gay, at least I didn't think I was gay. I'd only ever had girlfriend's, and not even all that many of those. I'd never been attracted to guys, but Chris. Chris with his perfect hair, his light pink (and intoxicating, or at least I'd assumed so) lips, his rather muscular chest, which Id actually seen quite a lot of. He was hot, no not hot, that's didn't do him justice. Chris was gorgeous. And the sight of him now breathing underneath me, a _certain_ spot on me touching a _certain_ spot on him, was sending the blood in my head whirling.

_That's not the _only_ place blood is going._

Another breath caressed my lips, and I focused back on the situation at hand, and the question he hadn't answered yet. I stared into those blue masterpieces, not really all that sure what I wanted to hear come out of the mouth inches from mine. Chris gulped and closed his eyes parting his lips in preparation of his answer.

The lone word seemed to echo in my mind, sending out shouts of itself, though as it left Chris, it was barely even a whisper.

"_Yes_"

My eyes widened, and a small gasp escaped my lips. Chris just said yes. He said yes. He wants to kiss me. He said yes. He freaking said _yes_. I couldn't believe this was happening. Wait. Was I ready? Did I want this to happen?

_Well,_ I_ do._

My mind was suddenly flooded with doubt. I had kissed him countless times on set, and to be honest with myself, I may have pushed it a _little_ further than just a stage kiss, but this was different. This wasn't Kurt and Blaine. This was Chris and Darren. This was us, and if it started, there wasn't going to be a "CUT!" to end it. It was us. Just us. No cameras, no directors or lighters or fellow cast mates or sound operators or extras. Us. Was it supposed to be different? Was I supposed to do something else while I kissed him? Like…like…_something_? Was I overthinking it? I was. But what if I'm under thinking it?

"Dar?"

The sudden word yanked me out of my own head. I looked back to Chris, whose face was flushed in the most adorable way I'd ever seen and whose eyes seemed incredibly unsure. He blushed and looked down quickly, stuttering.

"You don't need to, I'm, I'm just being ridiculous, you were probably just joking, and, and I'll jus-MMPMM!" I didn't get to hear his last words, because without any real warning to him _or_ me, I had smashed our lips together.

Chris let out a startled squeak and didn't move in response at all, and for a moment I started to regret my sudden decision. I stopped moving my mouth and kept my eyes closed, not wanting to see the shock and disgust that I feared was in front of them. I began to slowly pull away, but Chris suddenly had other ideas. His hand reached up and fisted in my hair, pulling my down on top of him, my chest now flush against his. I let out a quick gasp, and he quickly took advantage of this, gliding his tongue around my lower lip.

I am not proud of the noises I made.

Every touch sent fire flying through my skin. The hand that wasn't tangled in my curls was now grabbing hungrily at my back, the nails scratching against the fabric. I was quickly melting, just melting into his lips, his soft, warm, _wet_ lips…

_Darren, KISS HIM BACK!_

Oh, yeah. Right, I wasn't a puddle. Chris couldn't do this alone, though his lips were certainly leading me to that conclusion. I cleared my head from the fuzzies that crowded it, and pushed myself deeper into the kiss.

I added my tongue to the effort, and got an extremely attractive moan from Chris in return. Taking this as a good sign, I carefully nibbled his lower lip. I felt him arch up into me, and his grip on my back tightened. I broke the kiss for a sharp intake of air, panting. I had to stop my hips from thrusting back down into his.

_Why!_

I didn't have time to answer, because before I could even blink, Chris's tongue was sucking on my neck. As his soft lips caught slightly on the thin stubble that dusted over my Adams apple, I unexpectedly moaned in an embarrassingly high-pitched tone. As if on que, he uttered an almost identical noise that sent an ooze of pleasure throughout my entire body (particularly a spot below my waist), giving me the incentive to hear it again. Riding my surge of ecstasy, I grabbed his chest and pushed it even closer to mine. He pulled his head up from my (now tender) neck to meet my gaze. His azure eyes stared into mine, sending a shiver that for some reason wound its way to my fingers, causing them to tremble.

Chris glanced down towards my fingers, and dropped his hands from my back. I stopped the whine that built in my throat at the loss of the warmth that had been burning through the thin material of the shirt. "Darren? Are you okay? We can stop if you want…" he started to drop his head back to the ground, defeat evident in his downcast eyes.

"What? God no Chris, I just, your eyes, and your hands, and your _mouth_ Chris, god your mouth…" I breathed, slipping my hand behind his head.

Chris looked back at me and blushed, a tiny smile toying at his lips. His eyes flicked to my lips and up again, something dark and seductive hidden in his irises. Before I could take another breathe, his mouth was on mine again.

Now it wasn't safe, or scared or worried. It wasn't just a joke or an experiment. This was making out. We were making out. He shoved his tongue into my mouth, and with a loud groan, I pulled his head closer, erasing the already nonexistent space between our faces. It was all tongue and teeth and complete and total need in a way I'd never even thought possible. The connection between our bodies seemed magnetic. I ran my tongue slowly over his upper lip, the wet heat of his mouth sending licks of flame through coursing through my already scorched skin.

Taking his breathy mutters of unintelligible words as encouragement, I began to slowly kiss my way down his chin, stopping at a soft and sensitive point directly under the left side of his jaw, slowly adding more and more steam to the touch. Chris let out a breathy moan, and I felt his body squirm under mine. He closed his eyes even tighter, and tilted his head back, allowing me more access to the new spot I had found.

His voice was just a whisper, needy and strained, "_Darren._"

And that was it.

Every thought flew from my head, and I couldn't stop the way my hips jerked down into his, pushing him roughly down into the carpet. My pants were unnaturally tight, and with a blush I realized his were to. Suddenly his groin was pushing back into mine, _hard_. The scratching of the denim on the sensitive skin only added to the sensations pulling through my body. I buried my face in his neck to muffle the groans that came falling out of my mouth, one after another.

_PRAISE DUMBLEDORE! Darren's finally getin' some!_

Chris was now moving against me in a tight, circular motion, occasionally pushing a bit harder than normal. I pushed with him, biting my tongue in complete and total pleasure. I looked up from Chris's neck to his face. The tiniest sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead, and his lips were parted, releasing quick, sharp breaths. He looked beautiful, perfect. I was too busy staring at his gorgeous countenance to notice that his hand had left my back, and was now tugging wantingly at the hem of my shirt. I glanced down quickly and then back up, into his eyes, which were now suddenly open, and looking directly at mine.

"Uh, can, I…" he tugged slightly at my shirt.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." I blinked, unable to say more than those three tiny words, the rolls of our hips still clouding everything out.

His fingers began to quickly undo the (seemingly millions of) buttons that lined the front of my shirt. His eyes were focused on my chest, but I was staring into those light blue pools. There was still so much uncertainty there. He had to know how it was hard not to just, uh, "explode" for me, just with his fingers barely brushing against my skin. But that was just another thing (this time "worry-wartism") that I loved about him.

Loved about him.

Loved.

"Chris I love you."

His fingers froze. He kept his eyes on my chest, though I willed him to look up. I hadn't meant to say it. It had just come out. But I didn't regret it, because I meant it. I meant it with every fiber of my being. Chris was my best friend, (well, from the way we were pressed against each other, "friend" isn't exactly a good word) my everything. He was nerdy and beautiful and amazing and _him_. That was all I knew I'd ever need.

I continued to stare into his eyes. He still hadn't answered. I seemed to be waiting for a lot of answers today. He closed his eyes, and dropped his hands to his chest. I instinctively reached down and grabbed them with one of mine, using the other to balance myself over his form. I began to slowly rub circles into his thumb. The air was hot, and the movie had long since stopped. My heart was thumping uncomfortably loud, and I could feel Chris's beating along with mine, though our chests were apart. I partially expected him to not say it back, after all, this had all happened in one day. But that was the beauty of it, the cliché, romantic-comedy beauty of it. His eyes finally opened, and he squeezed my fingers. His lips curved up just the slightest, and he looked up, directly into my eyes.

"Darren, I, I love you to."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Thoughts?

I really hope that it was worth the wait.

Leave any ideas in the reviews, not sure how long I want to make this thing, so any suggestions shall be appreciated C:


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